


Golden Scales

by Superdillin



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Dragons, Dwarves, Elves, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, High Fantasy, M/M, Ogres, Orcs, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 06:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superdillin/pseuds/Superdillin
Summary: High dragons are the rarest of all dragon-kind.  Only one is born in a century, and a single one can outlive whole human civilizations as they rise and fall.  Voske is one of those rare few, new to the world, ready to leave her mother's den and find her own way of life.  On her journey she discovers that there may be more to being born of dragon-kind than she was ever taught, that a war may be on the horizon, and that true freedom means to be control of her own destiny.  Along with her human friend Tax, she'll venture all the deserts and forests of Hirus in search of her own meaning to life.





	1. Voske

**Author's Note:**

> This is original fiction, with a VERY loose inspiration from D&D lore. Please do not expect anything to be canon D&D, simply reminiscent. This is a pet project that I've been working on for too long and am excited/terrified to share. I don't know that anyone would enjoy but if you do, you're a love bug.

_ “The war between mankind and dragonkind is born of our desire to survive.  Their mere existence is a threat that cannot be left alone.” _

_ Logios Kaffe, Advisor to the Queen Meylorin  _

  
  


Voske enjoyed the night time best.  During the day, it was always so busy in the mountain den in which they lived.  Mother insisted she train with the drakes for most of the daylight hours, even more hours than her many brothers and sisters ever spent under instruction.  From daybreak to nearly dusk, she practiced fighting dragons that were, at one point, double her size who now took to sparring her three or four at a time.  When that was done, she spent the rest of her day practicing calling her breath to flame as they instructed her to try harder.  

It was not that she could not call a fire, and she was plenty good at fighting.  It was simply that there were so many dragon-kind in the den now, and there was so little space.  Voske had nearly one hundred brother and sister wyrmlings, and there were as many as fifty drakes sometimes, when there weren’t too many of them out hunting. Voske was the only one of her many siblings who experienced the rare and scary thing to have one’s wings separate from her forward limbs.  It was a painful thing and left her with a few scars, the way the scales flaked and shed where the split occurred.  But by the end, the pain was worthwhile, for she had a wingspan to envy and once she regained her strength, she could even run across the desert in a gallop that sent quakes through the sand.  The drakes went out in droves to hunt one day after, and brought her back more food in quantity and variety than she’d ever seen, presenting it all to her and her mother as a gift of reverence.

She was the largest among them now by several lengths, and as such the pressure to become as fearsome a beast as her mother Mardik, a legend among humans and dragon-kind alike, grew greater every day.  It would not be long now, before it was her time to leave this den and travel off alone to find her own.  There were doubts that she could do it of course, and that was why they trained her more than the rest.  According to some of the drakes, Voske’s breath would never burn as hot as Mardik, and her voice would never still a warrior’s sword the same.  Voske new that Mardik was the largest and oldest living of the red-scaled dragons known to Hirus, and that she herself was golden-scaled and smaller in size and brand new in experience.  It did make sense for their size and power to vary, but still the comparisons bruised her.  

“It is not her size alone that worries us.  She simply does not possess the spirit of destruction as you do, Mardik.” One of them, Payk, had said some months ago.  “She likely never will.  It’s tragic, truly, that the humans will likely cut her down the moment she is on her own.”

Mardik responded with nothing but a heavy roar of flames shot straight into the sky.  That was the kind of dragon she was, rarely needing words to make her point known.  Her point was cemented when that very spring Voske doubled in her size.  She was still small compared to Mardik, but very clearly meant to be one of the Great Dragons.  Voske had much to learn from her mother before the hottest weather came and it would be time for her to depart from the den.  She’d only have a few moons past to find her new home before the cold came.  

“Voske.”  Her mother’s most affectionate tone would cause most mortal creatures to tremble, but she lived to hear it.  It was, after all, rare for them to speak and rarer still for them to speak alone.  “Where is the best location for a nest?”

“One day’s flight from any human city, close enough to feed on livestock, yet far enough away to discourage too many stubborn warriors.”  She was confident in her answer and in response her mother twisted her massive head just slightly side to side and huffed a puff of smoke.  

“Never forget _altitude_ , Voske.  The humans hate to climb.  If they see a great beast like you on level ground they will send an army, you will lose your entire hoard to a thousand men.”

Voske assumed her mother’s words to be true, although from what she’d seen of human fighters it was a laughable thought.  The biggest among them could barely kill a few wyrmlings, maybe one drake if they were lucky and had enough of their tinctures to keep them alive.  Imagining any number of them being able to kill a Great Dragon like Mardik seemed impossible.  Still, Voske new her mother had lived for ages longer than she’s ever known, and has travelled Hirus over three times.  If she says it’s possible, it must mean she’s seen it take place.  So she bowed her head in acknowledgment and awaited more wisdom.  

“The drakes sent to scout for you will be back any day.  You head in whatever direction they tell you until you find high and secluded ground.  And how often will you migrate to a new nest?”  Mardik lowered her neck to rest her head on the ground close to where Voske lay, apologizing with her posture for her snap.  

The gesture did make Voske breathe easier.  Her mother wanted her to survive, as she had.  A Great Dragon is born only once a century, and they are the one legacy one can leave once they do perish.  So, she inched closer to her mother and answered, “Once every twenty seasons, unless the civilizations begin spreading closer.  Then, sooner.”  Her mother’s nuzzling showed that she was pleased with her response, and that was the way they stayed that evening.  It was not often that her mother showed affection in that way, but she couldn’t help but note that it was more frequent lately.  

_“Because I’m leaving any day now,”_ she had thought to herself, quickly shoving the thought aside.   _“Just enjoy it, Voske,”_ she scolded herself to drive away the fear of being on her own so soon.  

The following day had been full of excitement for most of the drakes and wyrmlings in the den.  Their murmurs were all about the return of the scouts anticipated for the following morning, how everyone would feast and fight and run in celebration, and how excited Voske must be to be off on her adventure so soon.  It seemed like many of them felt some sort of jealousy for Voske’s position, and she understood that in a sense…underneath the anxiety of being alone there was a freeing feeling that comes with the opportunity to start one’s own life.  The drakes never went out in a pack of less than ten for their safety, and none of the other wyrmlings would ever become a high dragon as Voske had.  She was in a unique position and she understood the jealousy, but on that day all she could feel was dread.  

She stuck close to her mother most of the daylight hours, and for once Mardik did not seem to mind it.  She didn’t even bother with her usual quizzing or speeches.  Instead they flew up into the sky together, circling the mountain and hunting side by side.  This was another thing that the others would never know, the cool weightlessness of the air underneath your wings, the dizzying rush of climbing high into the sky, or the way your heart races as you dive down toward the ground.  They did this all day, until long after they no longer had appetite for prey, until they were too tired to gain one more inch off the ground.  Without words, Voske felt closer to her mother in that one afternoon of flight than in one-hundred conversations combined.  

The jitters truly passed, however, when dusk came and the business of the den slowed.  Everyone was sleeping early this night, anticipating the exciting day to follow.  Mardik had also turned in early, inviting Voske to join.  She declined, feeling too pleasant in the night air to sleep just yet, but her mother did not look hurt by this, simply smiled the way a dragon did before turning herself over to sleep.  

Voske’s wings were tired, but her mind was awake.  She wanted to spend her last night in the den among the treasures she loved to admire and study.  That’s where Voske spent most of her evenings.  When all the others had curled up along the edges of the den to sleep, she crawled her way to the depths of the deepest cavern to the horde, the collection of weapons, armor, gold and jewels.  Much of these were left behind by the warriors who came and either perished by the drakes, or fled in fear leaving their carried things to fall, while others were found by the hunters and scouts during their travels.  

The shiny things were nice to look at, it was true, but Voske was far more interested in the dusty old things that sat among them, books and letters and documents that revealed so much more of humankind than any dragon could hope to learn face to face with one.  

While it was common for dragons to learn other languages, mostly as a side effect of their long life spans, most preferred the ancient sounds of their own draconic tongue.  Voske could not argue, it was very difficult to speak the human languages or even the dwarven dialects in her own voice.  It took extra effort to soften her vocal chords and whisper the soft sounds it required, but she had taught herself how through many nights filled with reading the many books and recipes and letters in the collection.   

She so enjoyed the letters.  When she read them, she would close her eyes and imagine the life around it.  She felt all sorts of emotion when she did this, curiosity, joy, sadness.  And she wondered often if human life was always so emotional.  If it were, she thought, it must be so draining to live in such a way.  

_ “Finnic, _

_ We know you must go on this journey but please know that home awaits you with open arms should you separate from your battalion and lose your way in the mountains.  We will always be here, and there will be no questions.  We love you so very much.  Write as soon as you are able.  You know how your mother worries. _

_ Love, _

_ Your Father” _

When she was younger, before she ever grew into her wings, she had told her mother she wanted to study humankind.  The bellowing sounds of her response closed that conversation for good, punctuated with yet another lecture on the way humans wanted to destroy of enslave all of dragon kind.  It was all meant to frighten Voske, she was sure, but it all seemed frankly dramatic.  

She knew this would be her last night at home, and so she had no will to sleep.  She re-read each letter, perused her favorites of the books, and read aloud to herself not knowing when she’d find another book again. 

_ “Do you know how to cut them, _

_ know how to stain them, _

_ Know how to read them, _

_ How to understand? _

_ It is better not to offer than to offer too much, _

_ For a gift demands a gift. _

_ Better not to slay than to slay too many.” _

_  The Poetic Edda _

The first bit of morning light had begun inching it’s way into the cave, and she could hear the wyrmlings begin to shuffle about in the distance when Voske first realized how exhausted she felt.  The impending changes washed over her suddenly, causing a dizzy haze to overcome her.  “I won’t make it far in the desert without sleep,” she told herself as she dragged her tired legs to the den where her mother still slept.  

When the dawn came, Voske stayed sleeping.  Even through the sounds of her brothers and sisters at play, wrestling and tug-of-warring over scraps of meat nearby.  She had been far too big for far too long to wrestle with them anymore, but she often came to watch and laugh.  But on this morning she stay stuck in deep sleep until the sun was high in the sky and her mother came to her.

Mardik watched her sleeping there for a solemn moment before nudging her gently with the top of her head.  “The scouts have returned, Voske.” She said in a tone softer than Voske could ever remember hearing.  It was a light and happy whisper, with just a hint of strain behind it.  “The entire den will celebrate you today,” a hitch in her voice could just barely be heard before she finished.  “Before we see you off.”

Voske woke in a haze, her dreams of adventures yet to come slipping away omtp ether as she lifted her hind quarters to stretch.  A puff of smoke huffed from her nostrils as she flexed her wings and yawned away her sleepiness.  When she could finally open her eyes completely, she lifted her long neck up to meet Mardik’s, nudging the underside of her neck with the top of her own head.  

They paused in that cuddle for a moment before Mardik pulled away, stepping out of their nest and gesturing for Voske to follow.  

The den was completely empty, a sight Voske could not ever remember seeing all her life.  Every single drake and wyrmling were outside in the clearing nearest to the top of the mountain.  Her brothers and sisters were wrestling each other in sport on the ground, while many of the drakes had taken to the sky.  They were looping and screeching bursts of flame as they peaked and dipped through the air. 

When Mardik and Voske emerged, however, there was a temporary hush.  The sounds of the birds and the wind were all that could be heard for a moment as all those in flight came to ground and those wrestling stumbled to their feet to look at their kin on her last day with them.  The quiet was truly brief, but felt to Voske as if it lasted minutes, enough time for her breath to catch as she looked out at all the little ones she’d be leaving soon.  And she felt in that moment that she truly, and surprisingly, was more happy to go than she was sad.  She was too big for this place, she understood now that it was more than just food and supplies that weren’t enough.  There was a world out there that was meant for her, beyond this cavern.  

And when the hush ended it ended with an eruption of screeches and flame and fire, beasts somersaulting up into the air and on the ground in pure joy and pride.  Even Mardik herself was overtaken with the frenzy of excitement and reared her head back until her neck pointed straight up into the sky and roared a bellowing growl that echoed between the peaks of the neighboring mountains and where they stood.  She spread her wings, and hoisted herself up off the ground, hovering up slowly until she had enough lift to rocket herself high up into the air, past all the others until she was high enough to obscure some of the light from above.  

Voske, still tired and aware that she had a long evening of flight ahead of her could still not help herself as she lifted up to join her.  They circled one another in a tumble across the sky before diving back down to land just before the massive haul of food the scouts had returned with.  Almost immediately upon their landing, all the others backed away from the line of tasty corpses laid out before them.  There were sheeps, goats, and even badgers and a few dire rats, all very much dead but not quite ready to feast upon.  Voske felt surprised by the rumble in her stomach the moment she laid eyes on it all.  

Normally, they’d eat their prey as-is, they did not have the weak constitutions of the bi-pedals that needed their meat charred in order to survive.  However, this was an occasion and there was a little something special about the taste of char on their meat.  Voske, as well as all the others, took many steps away and back behind Mardik as she faced down the massive feast.  And with her head reared back she called her breath and let her flames go in one long sweep from the left to the right over it all, burning each piece for only a brief second - which was plenty.  When her breath ran out the smoke was thick and the smell in the air was rich and decadent.  

Some of the littler ones could not be held back, leaping forward and into tear away their scraps.  Voske did not want to wait, the smell was so intoxicating but she stayed herself, watching her brothers and sisters play and fight once more and reminiscing until everyone had began to feast except for Voske and her mother.  

While everyone ate, the sun began to slowly descend and many of the drakes took turns telling their tales of adventure.  Dens they lived in before finding Mardik, epic battles they won triumphantly while hunting or scouting for new paths.  One of them, Finhayry, swore he knew where all the high dragons in Hirus were.  He hadn’t been strong enough for adventure in many seasons, but he claimed he could “sense” them somehow.  Voske knew it did not matter whether the stories were true, but she did wish she could know somehow, or at least that she could keep the stories with her when she left.  

It was almost at the moment the thought came to her that she realized the sun had reached the horizon, and that it was time.  As if by some strange telepathy, it seemed everyone else noticed as well.  The little ones came to surround her, snuggling up under her wings and nuzzling against her all full and sleepy.  The drakes stood beside Mardik, waiting, and Mardik herself simply watched.  Voske had worried that this would feel like being banished, that her mother would have to chase her by way of flame off the side of this mountain.  But looking out on the horizon at the bright orange hues, the breeze was actually tempting her wings, beckoning her to meet the air.  

And so she squeezed her brothers and sisters, bowed her head to the drakes who bowed theirs in return, and approached Mardik.  They met at the neck to curl against one another for a long moment that Voske would keep forever, but that could not last.  Before she could think too much, Voske lifted her wings and took herself up into the air, veering forward to chase the sunset as it slowly sank to disappear.  


	2. Khola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voske ventures a little too close to a human city and is taken by surprise as she sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who reads. Feedback is so welcome!

Voske let the air take her as high as she could, until the usually warm desert air was a chill over her scales.  Travelling at this height she could see so much, mountain ranges in the distance to her left that she’d never visited, the coast line to her right with an ocean she’d never seen.  She could see so much of Hirus from that height that she was no longer forlorn about leaving at all, until some many hours later when she glanced behind herself and noticed that for all her range she could no longer see the mountain she came from.  

It sent a chill down through her tail the was, at first, a feeling of dread and of loss.  Thoughts of the treasures she loved so much, the siblings she loved to laugh with, even the drakes who annoyed her with their nagging all bubbled in her head.  Her thoughts wandered then to her mother, and to the safe feeling that came with her presence.  Voske would never feel that again, she was certain. 

Her spiral to sadness was halted, however, when she saw something bright coming to focus off in the distance.  Flickers of light near the coast line immediately took her attention.  She changed course slightly, bringing herself down closer to the ground and heading toward the coast to get a closer look.  It was a town!  

A real, bipedal town full of people and their homes and books and trinkets!  Voske could think of nothing else but the fierce itch to get a closer look.  She knew, of course, that she must heed her mother’s words and be cautious, and that she could not get too close so as to be seen.  But she went closer still, until she could make out the shapes of the homes just enough to be sure it was a real town.   

There were some small rolling hills just a bit further inland, so she set to land herself there.  It took a few minutes for her to find a clearing in the woods where she could land quietly, and she did - or attempted to.  Her landing was softer than she’d ever done before, but the thud still sent the crows up into the air around her.  

Voske stayed low and quiet, focusing everything she had on listening, to see if she could hear what strange sounds the people might be making.  At first it seemed like there were no sounds but those of the forest.  The longer that Voske stayed still and quiet though, she could make out some faint chatter, perhaps spattered with laughter and these sharp, clanking sounds.  

She wanted to get closer, to be able to see what made those sounds.  But as she considered it she noticed how heavy the lids of her eyes felt, and how the weight of her feet seemed to be slowing all her movements down.  She should have headed to the mountains hours ago, now there was no way she would make it that way tonight.  So instead she stayed low and traveled as softly as she could on foot away from the town to the other side of one of the nearest hills.  It wasn’t particularly hidden, but she could see no people or livestock from where she was and figured it was safe enough for one night.  Curling up in a circle in the cool dirt, her nerves could not even keep her awake.  Soon, she was asleep, dreaming of what possibilities lie on the other side of that hill.  

Her exhaustion was strong and heavy, keeping Voske deep in sleep for hours, even as the figure hiding in the darkness of the trees inched closer.  Even as it, weapon drawn, stepped quite loudly out into the clearing where she slept.  She did not even wake when it stumbled only a few feet from her, or when it clumsily stood to it’s feet.  But as the figure approached her head and raised its weapon high, she could suddenly sense the feeling of a gaze upon her and opened her eyes.  

It was a man, a human man who yelped and tripped backward over his own feet when Voske lifted her head just slightly off the ground.  His sword was too large for his hand, she thought, and it promptly fell to the ground beside his feet as he tumbled.  In fact, the first thing she could help to notice was how very small he looked this close.  

“Ah, Shit,” he groaned, reaching for his sword and pointing it straight toward her with both hands shaking, sitting in the dirt where he’d fallen.

Voske tilted her head to one side, studying him.  She knew she should say something before the boy died of a fright, but it took her a moment to figure out what she could possibly say to calm him.  

“Hello, human,” she attempted to speak as softly as she could but feared it was not enough by the way his eyes widened.  She quieted herself more.  “I mean to do you no harm.  My name is Voske Khaghaghut’yun, daughter of Mardik Vakh.  What do they call you?”  She was trying to sound as diplomatic as possible in lieu of getting herself too excited, calling on her memory of the official-looking letters she’d read.  The ones with the fancy wax seals and brightest inks.  

It seemed to have some effect on the young man, as he slowly staggered to his feet, his eyes trained on her all the way.  Once standing, he put one hand to his head as the other held his sword down to his side.  

“I’m -”  His voice cracked slightly at first but he gave it another try.  “My name is Taxidaria of house Zagora, I am a warrior here in Khola and I’ve been sent to -” he coughed to clear his throat again.  “I’ve been sent here to slay the dragon.  Which...would be you.  I was sent here to slay you.”

Voske forgot her plan to be diplomatic as she laughed, reaching one of her taloned front claws to grab the loose leather armor he was wearing.  

“A warrior?  I’m truly sorry but you cannot be serious.”  She held him up, closer to get a better look and he dropped his sword instantly, beginning to shake and squirm.  “You’re much too small.

“The boys meager voice became bold and loud and stern in a way that startled Voske.  “You let me DOWN.  If you mean me no harm, you will let me down now.”

She did so, pulling her front paw back quickly.  “I apologize.  It is the first time I have ever seen a human this close before.  I will not do that again.”  Voske worried he might run off right then and there but he did not.  He adjusted his armor and sighed.  

“Well, I suppose I did come here to kill you, so perhaps we call it even?”

He recognized the look she gave him in response as a pleased one, even though there was no discernible smile.  Her eyes glinted and turned up at the sides and Taxidaria realized he never imagined in his life that dragons were capable of feeling joy.  Or of speaking for that matter.  

“You speak the Queen’s tongue,” he mused, setting himself down on a rock, still shaking.  “Where’d you learn to speak a human language?”

“I read human books and letters almost every night since I was old enough to carry myself to them.  Up until a day ago, that is.”  She noticed the slow arrival of dawn on the horizon.  One night away and she’d broken every rule her mother had given to her.  

“Where did you get them,” He found himself genuinely intrigued.  As far as he knew, no human had ever conversed with a dragon before.  “All the books, I mean.  There’s not some dragon library I haven’t heard of, is there?”

This was all already sobering enough to clear his head, but if there was any drink left in his system, the blunt force of her reply cleared it away.  

“Warriors who came to try to kill my den often had packs with them that we kept afterwards.”

“Ah.”  His answer was short, as he was stuck on the thought of how many men, men leagues above his own had tried and failed to kill a dragon.  His hand that was rubbing the temples of his head now moved to scratch nervously at the back of his neck.  As if she caught onto his thoughts, she went on.  

“Why did you do it, anyway? You must have known it would not work.” 

“Are you so certain?  If I’d taken you by surprise, or in your sleep as I planned?”  

She laughed again, which Taxidaria found to be equal parts amusing and intriguing.  

“You could not. I’m absolutely sure!”  It felt harder for her to keep her voice down now, she was so thrilled to be having this conversation, any conversation at all.  “Go ahead and try if you like.  Hard as you can with your fancy sword.”  And she lowered her head to expose her neck in a gesture of earnestness.  

He considered taking her bait for a moment before reconsidering.  “I think I’ll have to take your word.”  She was unlike what he imagined a dragon to be.  She wasn’t eating him, for one thing.  Her entire nature seemed so much more complex than the wild beasts he knew dragons to be.  And strangely, he felt compelled to tell her the truth.  Something he’d done very little of as of late.  “Truth be told I was quite intoxicated.  And I thought, in my drunken state, that it might help solve a few of my problems.  

Voske got up properly now, taking a stretch that ended with a flick of her tail. “Intoxicated?”

“Drunk.  I’d been at the tavern most of the night drinking away my last few coppers away.”  He noticed the squint of her eyes and thought she may not know what he was speaking of.  “Alcohol, have you...read about it?  I don’t suppose dragons do a lot of fermenting.”

She had read mention of it, in fact, but she did not quite understand what she had read.  Some letters mentioned looking forward to breaking open casks full of mead or ale after returning victorious.  And in one book, there was a recipe for fermenting fruits which sounded quite a lot like allowing them to rot.  Why drinking rotted fruit juice would make a man attempt to single-handedly kill a creature so many times his size she could not guess.

“I have read of it.  It does not...is it magical?  Gives you extra strength or some other ability?”  Perhaps he thought it would fortify him, she thought.  

He only chuckled, still massaging his aching head.  “Well, it makes you _think_ you’re stronger.  Mostly it just makes you stupid.”

Voske tried to understand, her talons digging mindlessly in the dirt.  “So why drink it then?”

Taxidaria stood up to pace a bit, feeling truly and regretfully clear-headed now.  “Well, most of the time it’s just for fun.”  He paused, considering that he might not be explaining this in a way she could grasp.  She did not know humans before now except through the written word.  “It makes you feel warm and loose and...a bit silly?  Most of the time it helps people relax and have a decent time when they need a break from...whatever in life has got a boot on their neck.”

She was following him up until his colloquialism, squinting and tilting her head to one side.  He caught his mistake and rephrased.  “Whatever stresses they are under, I mean.”  Much clearer that way, she nodded her head slightly and he smiled, proud of himself.  At first all Voske noticed of him was how small he seemed, but now she was really looking.  He was lithe, not without muscle, only a subtler type than the warriors with their axes and great-swords.  He had brown and yellow hair that fell in his face, he spent far too often adjusting it away from his eyes.  They freckles under his hazel eyes were so thick it looked as though he was trying to camouflage himself with some dirt.  And yet, it made the glint of green in his eyes stand out brightly when he managed to meet her gaze for more than a brief second.  

The leather armor he wore was thin and ill-fitted, loose around his shoulders, and the large pack strapped to his back looked well used, worn and beaten in places.  He had a general nervous energy she noticed, always fiddling with his hair or the back of his neck or the straps of his pack.  Sometimes it was just the way he gesticulated as he spoke.  

“Problem is,” he continued.  “If you have too much of it, you can’t think clearly and you might do something insane and suicidal.  Like attack a sleeping dragon by yourself.”  He was laughing quietly at first, but then a strange new expression took over, twisting his face to a grimace. 

Voske swivelled her neck to look around in case the thing causing his distress was a danger.  “What is it?”

“Well,” he tried to shake the stress from his face and began fidgeting again.  “As lovely as you turned out to be, I was tasked to kill you and I’ve, unsurprisingly, failed that task.  I’m afraid I won’t be able to go back to Khola now.”  He pulled a hole-filled map from his pocket and began to unfold it.  

Khola must be was this place is called, she figured.  She felt disappointed by the notion that he’d be on his way to soon, when the idea struck her.  

“Why not come with me?”

He shrugged, barely looking up from his map.  “Come with you where?”

“I...do not know actually.  I was meant to travel north of here to the mountains, away from people.  At the very least you would be safe with me and,” she paused, timidly adding her ulterior motive.  “Maybe you could tell me more about Khola.  About people at all.”

He quietly thought, not wanted to admit that the map he was studying might have been drawn by a child.  He could use some help, and to travel with a real dragon - who could ever turn down an offer like that?

“Does that mean we’d fly?  Could I fly, like on your back?”  He tried not to sound too eager but it was not easy.  

“I suppose you could...though I do not know if you could stay on safely.”  It was not as though she had anything he could grip on to.  

Taxidaria held a finger up in thought before flinging his pack to the ground.  Opening it, he dug in and began to pull out a tightly wound rope.  He inspected it for flaws, looking pleased and perhaps surprised not to find any.  

“Here, I’ll use this,” he explained, unravelling the rope and stepping closer to Voske.  Now that she was so close, and standing, he felt as small as the way she described him.  He barely came up to the base of her neck.  He cleared his throat, keenly aware of how easily she could kill him.

She figured out what he meant to try and obliged, lowering her head and neck in a bow.  He struggled with the rope for minutes, hoisting it around her neck.  He tried to climb on board but it proved nigh impossible with nothing to grip.  Voske laughed at his clumsy flailing, liking him more the more imperfect he turned out to be.  To help his endeavor, she shifted her wing forward, low enough for him to use the ligament as a step to reach her back.  From there, he took the two loose ends of the rope and looped them together into a slip knot, leaving a wide enough loop to slip around himself.  He tugged at his work, proud of it’s success and smiled.  

“That should hold,” he said with certainty, suddenly invigorated by the idea of flight.  “What do I call you again?”

“Voske Khaghaghut’yun.”

“Right.”  That was a mouthful, and certainly sounded nothing like the Queen’s tongue.  “How about V?”

She figured her name was short enough as it was, but she had read that humans often shortened one another’s names as a sign of affection and her eyes smiled.  “Sure, V sounds nice.   Taxidaria…”  She purred in thought.  “I could call you Tax.”

He laughed, amused by the irony of life.  No one had ever thought to give him a nickname before.  Presumably because no one knew him long enough to want to.  But it sounded good when he said it aloud.  “Tax.  Yeah, I like that.”

“Hold tightly, Tax!” she bellowed, lifting up off the ground with a start, her wings catching the air for a few heavy strokes before they were properly in the air.  

Tax screamed aloud once they were really moving and V twisted the length of her neck to look back.  “Are you alright?”  She could see that he was not screaming in fear, but in laughter and exhilaration and she laughed in a roar from deep in her belly as she pinned back her wings to fly faster ahead.   


End file.
